


We Can Make It Right

by caswell



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: F/F, Girls' Night, Hurt/Comfort, Underage Drinking, i missed these wuhluhwuh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 20:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18630790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caswell/pseuds/caswell
Summary: When Brooke's boyfriend of seven months cheats on her, there's nothing else a lovestruck Chloe can do but try to give her the best night of her life.





	We Can Make It Right

**Author's Note:**

> What's up I wrote this in one night from like 12-8 am LMAO  
> Title is from Good As Hell by Lizzo.  
> Also: I know Brock dated Chloe in the book, not Brooke, but iirc Brooke never had a boyfriend in there and I already had Chloe dating Eric in another fic so so?? shrugs. I don't think anyone cares that much.

_ [6:14] Brookie Cookie ❤︎: chloe??? _

_ [6:14] Brookie Cookie ❤︎: are you free? I need you _

_ [6:16] Brookie Cookie ❤︎: im just gonna call you pls pick up _

 

Chloe flips her hair over her shoulder and picks up her phone to check her texts just in time for it to begin ringing. Brooke’s name pops up on her screen, alongside her contact image- the two of them with crossed eyes and stuck-out tongues in a photo booth at the Menlo Park Mall. Chloe had been planning on doing homework tonight for once in her goddamn life, but fuck it, whatever. This may as well happen. She taps the green button, swipes right, and asks, “Hey, what’s up?”

There’s no formal response on Brooke’s end for a few moments, just a poorly-concealed sob. After a pause and a sniffle, Brooke answers,  _ “I, um… Brock, he, uh, he cheated on me.”  _ The last three words are strung together and spat out like a piece of gristle. 

As they reach Chloe’s ear, she grips her iPhone tight in her hand and hisses, “What?”

_ “Yeah, with, um, with Stephanie,”  _ Brooke says. She sniffles again, then sighs out a devastated exhalation.  _ “He didn’t tell me why he did it, he just said he couldn’t keep it a secret anymore.” _

“So what’d you do?” Chloe presses her phone tight to her ear with one shoulder as she uses the opposite hand to stuff her textbook and notebook back into her backpack. 

_ “Well, I broke up with him.”  _ Brooke says it as if it’s the simplest answer in the world, but Chloe’s fully aware that she can’t stand up for herself for shit. Sure enough:  _ “Or, well, actually, he broke up with me. He said he wants to be with Stephanie for real.”  _ Another sigh.

Chloe sighs as well, not out of sadness but out of anger that nearly has her shaking. “Well, at least that pig is out of your life.”

_ “Don’t call him a  pig,”  _ Brooke protests,  _ “I still- I still love…” _

“Don’t you finish that sentence, Brooke Lohst.” Look, Chloe knows how it is to love someone even when they’ve broken your heart, but she’d never say it out loud. Plus, while she’s certainly not the greatest best friend, she can’t just let Brooke sit there and feel sorry for herself for the rest of her life. “Come over,” she continues. “Let’s have a girls’ night.”

_ “Um, aren’t your parents home?” _

Chloe shakes her head, then, upon remembering that Brooke can’t see her, answers, “Nah, they’re on a cruise. So come over.”

_ “Um… I’m really embarrassed to say this, but…”  _ Brooke clears her throat, a dreadful, phlegmy sound that makes Chloe cringe.  _ “I’m kinda crying too hard to drive.” _

Ah, that figures. “I’ll pick you up,” Chloe says. “I’ll see you in, like, fifteen minutes, okay?”

_ “Uh, sure-” _

Without another word, Chloe ends the call, then sticks her phone in her pocket and slides out of bed. 

 

She’s dressed warmly- a Moomin sweater and a long skirt, plus knee-high socks- but Brooke still shakes as she sits and waits on her front porch. Every few moments, she turns on her phone’s screen, checks the time, and turns it off again before resting her head on crossed arms. 

This is ridiculous. It’s pathetic! Brock is just a boy, and her mom always said not to let boys run her life. But here she is, crying like a baby because he just  _ had  _ to run off with some other girl. And screw Stephanie! Brooke had almost considered her a friend, but no, she actually slept with her boyfriend. What kind of a freaking demon-

Brooke gives a strangled shriek as the sound of a honking car horn bursts forth into the night, echoing in the otherwise-silent neighborhood. She raises her gaze to see Chloe’s (mom’s) car in her driveway, and the tension in her shoulders lessens just the slightest bit. Grabbing her phone, she stands up and trudges down the short, curving sidewalk to the car; before she even reaches it, she can hear trashy pop music blaring from the radio, and she manages a laugh. Good ol’ Chloe, murdering her ears.

“Hey,” Chloe says as Brooke opens the door and slides into the car. She turns the music down to a less ear-splitting volume, then asks, “How’re you holding up?”

As Chloe places her hand on the back of her headrest and twists around to back out of the driveway, Brooke answers, “Um. Fine, I guess.” A tremor in her voice betrays her, though, and she wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. “I mean… I still feel like shit, but it’s, um, I mean, I’m not going to  _ die  _ about it or anything.”

“Well, yeah, I wasn’t thinking I’d have to send you to the loony bin,” Chloe says. “But I’m gonna cheer you up, okay? We’re gonna have the best night of our lives, I promise.”

“Um, okay,” Brooke replies. That’s a long shot, but hey, if it’s a girls’ night with Chloe, it might be at least a little fun. ...Unless they get in a fight. Oh, that’d be just fantastic. The thought rips another sob out of her, and she drags her wrist across her face, wincing as it brings a stinging sensation to her eyes. “Sorry about the waterworks.”

Chloe rolls her eyes, but Brooke knows there’s no genuine anger behind it. “You’re fine. Don’t even worry about it. Now c’mon, it’s T Swizzle time.” She cranks the music back up and begins to sing along:  _ “I shake it off, I shake it off, I- I-” _

_ “I shake it off,”  _ Brooke finishes, voice soft and shivering, but still there.

 

With a muffled  _ clink,  _ Chloe drops her keys on the marble countertop before crossing her arms and fixing Brooke with an inquisitive gaze. “So,” she asks, “have you eaten dinner yet?”

Brooke laughs, a dry huff of air with no humor in it. “Uh, I couldn’t eat. I tried, cuz we had spaghetti, and you know how I love that, but…” She shakes her head. “No dice.”

“Well, I’m ordering pizza,” Chloe says. “Antonio’s or Bleecker Street?”

Brooke just stares at her blankly.

“Um, let’s go with Bleecker Street.” Chloe pulls out her phone from the pocket of her jeggings and navigates to Chrome, then looks up the number- 212-942-4466. When Brooke opens her mouth, possibly to tell her to stop, she puts her hand up, silencing her. “Hello?” she says when her call is picked up. “Um, I’d like to order a pizza…”

As Chloe rattles off the orders of the detail- medium veggie & mozzarella pizza (for Brooke’s sake only- she keeps kosher; Chloe would never touch a veggie pizza under any other circumstances) and garlic bread- she turns her back to Brooke. It’s not like she doesn’t want to be there for her, because obviously she does- otherwise, she wouldn’t have invited her over- but it’s so weird just looking at her. She always bounces back so quickly when, say, Chloe snaps at her (sue her). This time, she’s really distraught. It’s  _ bizarre. _

After what feels like an eternity, Chloe thanks the call’s recipient and hangs up, then turns back around with the brightest smile she can muster plastered on her face. “So!” she says. “Pizza party in an hour.”

“Oh. Good.” The corner of Brooke’s lip twitches into a half- rather, quarter- smile. “Do we have, like, juice or something? I’m thirsty.”

She must’ve dehydrated herself from crying. The thought tears Chloe’s heart to shreds; as much as she’d like to say that she doesn’t have any, Brooke is… somewhat of a soft spot for her. Not that she’d ever show it. “Yeah,” she says, “I think we have some punch in the fridge.” She sets her phone on the countertop next to her keys and strides over to the fridge, then, once she’s procured the fruit punch, grabs two tall glasses from the cupboard. “Vodka or no vodka?”

“I thought you’re not supposed to drink when you’re sad.”

Chloe shrugs. “It’s not like you’re gonna be an alcoholic just because you have one drink. C’mon, you’ll be fine.”

“Well, alright,” Brooke says. “A drink does sound nice right about now.”

Without any further words, Chloe nods and rifles around in the freezer for a moment before she pulls out a bottle of Grey Goose. She measures about a shot by eye and pours one into each glass, then fills the rest with punch. After stirring the drinks with a spoon, she hands one to Brooke and lifts the other into the air. “Cheers.”

Brooke gives another humorless laugh, but the smile lingers for just a few moments longer after she replies, “Cheers.”

 

When the pizza finally arrives, Brooke has to admit, she  _ is  _ pretty hungry. As she sits in the living room, sipping a third glass of punch (only the first had vodka in it, no need to worry about getting drunk), she overhears the bright sound of Chloe thanking the delivery boy. Then, the smell of cheese and veggies fills the air as Chloe brings in the pizza and calls, “It’s here!”

Brooke sets her glass of punch down on the table- making sure, of course, to use a coaster- and stands up. “I’ll grab the plates and napkins,” she says, but Chloe shakes her head.

“None of that dignified shit. Tonight’s about being a messy bitch, alright?” She grins that stunning grin of hers, the one that makes Brooke’s heart flutter like a bird in a cage, and continues, “Let’s get our hands greasy.”

“Yeah, alright,” Brooke says, still wary, but not feeling up to anything but submission. She sits back down and takes a sip of her punch as Chloe brings the pizza out, setting it down in front of her with a flourish. Chloe opens the box, and Brooke can’t help but smile as the warm smell intensifies. She’d never understood what Chloe always complained about regarding no meat on pizza- sure, maybe pepperoni and sausage have their virtues, but she’s perfectly content with some nice peppers and olives.

“So, how’re you holding up?” Chloe asks as she attempts to pick up a piece of pizza. “Ow, hot.”

Brooke shrugs, opting to let the pizza cool for a bit instead of nabbing a piece right away, and answers, “I don’t know. Feeling better, I guess. Good enough to eat.” 

“Well, good. See? You don’t need that asshole in your life.”

At the mention of Brock, Brooke’s face falls, and she stares down at her lap. Doesn’t she? She’d had him for so long- well, maybe not  _ that  _ long, but seven months is a decent chunk of time- and now, all they had is gone. “Yeah, I guess,” she says, and shrugs again.

Chloe frowns as she chews, then, once she’s swallowed, replies, “No ‘I guess’es. In the Valentine household, there’s only confident bitches.” 

“Yeah, I g- uh, I mean, sure.” Brooke fakes a smile- or maybe it isn’t all fake- and grabs a piece of pizza, having marginally better luck with it than Chloe.

There’s about five minutes of silence- besides chewing noises, which Brooke tries to ignore, as sensitive as her ears may be- before Chloe pipes up again. “So,” she says, “after this, d’you wanna do some nail painting?”

Brooke glances down at her nails- striped sky blue and lemon chiffon yellow- and nods. They’re getting a little chipped, and besides, this is the nail polish she had on when Brock dumped her. She needs something new in her life, stat. “Yeah,” she says, “that sounds nice. Um…” She falls silent, second-guessing herself as she so often does. (How did she even manage to get popular when she’s this insecure? Being best friends with Chloe has its advantages, she supposes.)

Chloe raises her eyebrows, and, after another bite of pizza, asks, “‘Um’ what?”

“I, uh, was just thinking…” Brooke clears her throat. “Thanks for tonight. It means a lot.”

Chloe rolls her eyes- again, Brooke understands that she means nothing by it- and says, “For real, it’s fine. What kind of a bestie would I be if I wouldn’t do this?”

“Good point,” Brooke says, and allows herself, finally, to smile.

 

“So, what’re you looking for?”

The shelves in Chloe’s room are packed to the brim with nail polishes of all different kinds- most holo, some matte, some  crème , all awesome. Personally, she’s looking to do something with her newest set of holo polish- all reds and purples- and maybe a cat-shaped nail vinyl. Tonight is all about Brooke, though, so she’ll break out her courteous side and help her choose.

Brooke hums as she considers the question. “Um… maybe something orange? Or maybe green. Or both.”

“Okay, executive decision- no orange and green,” Chloe says. “Green itself, though… I could definitely see that being cute.” She scans the shelves for a shade that would look cute on Brooke- as if anything wouldn’t look cute on Brooke- and spots a fern-colored matte polish. Snatching it off the shelf, she asks, “How about this?”

“Oooh.” Brooke takes the polish bottle and inspects it, reading the fine print on the back, even though there’s no real purpose. “This is pretty. Would I look cute with this?”

Chloe scoffs. “Uh,  _ yeah,  _ of course you would. You’d rock it.” She turns back to the shelves, but, when she glances at Brooke out of the corner of her eye, she’s staring, and… is that the hint of a blush on her face? “Uh, what’s up?”

Vigorously, Brooke shakes her head, blonde hair flying everywhere, and says, “Nothing. Um, what’re you gonna do? I mean, with your nails?”

Chloe turns back to the shelves and picks up the aforementioned holo polishes, then strides over to her desk and digs around for the cat nail vinyls. “You’ll see,” she says. “They’re gonna be killer.”

“Anything you do is killer.”

Chloe pauses, and her heart rate ticks up just the slightest bit. Oh, no. Now she’s got Brooke saying cute things. See, this never ends well for her; she loves Brooke too much for it to. She hates it, true, but she just… makes her heart do funny things. It’s sorta ridiculous. 

“Chloe?”

“Right,” Chloe says, and shakes her head. “Thanks, Brooke.” Careful not to bend the vinyls themselves, she grips the sheet and swallows sharply. “Um, should we just do it at the kitchen table?”

Brooke shrugs. “It’s your house. I’m kinda just here for the ride.” She gives a little smile, and it occurs to Chloe that she’s been smiling more and more as the seconds tick on. She must be doing something right.

When Chloe and Brooke get settled at the kitchen table, Chloe takes out her phone and opens Spotify- which she has a premium account on, like any dignified person- and navigates to Taylor Swift’s artist profile.

Leaning over, Brooke grimaces. “Aw, can we listen to literally anything but Taylor Swift? I dunno, maybe A Rocket to the Moon?”

Chloe heaves a sigh, but she’s not nearly as annoyed as she sounds; she flashes a smile to Brooke to prove it. “Fine, but only because you’re sad.” As Brooke gets started on her nails, Chloe instead searches for A Rocket to the Moon and selects a random song- she knows nothing about them.

“ _ You get lost on your way back home, just about anywhere. You sing off key to the radio, like nobody’s there…” _

Ah. It’s a love song. Chloe is acutely aware of the heat that rises to her face, and she clears her throat in what she hopes is an inconspicuous manner. “Uh, so… d’you need any help?”

“I’ve been painting my own nails for ten years, Chlo,” Brooke says. “I think I’m good. But thanks.”

“Mmhm.” Chloe swipes the base coat on- peel-off, since it’s a hell of a lot easier than using nail polish remover- and waits, tapping her fingers on the table. 

And then Brooke starts to sing.

Oh, no. Chloe _ cannot  _ handle this, good God. She’s good as hell after years of being in choir (Chloe joined for one year, but never got into the next highest group, so she quit), and the sound of her singing about loving someone, the sheer tenderness of it, makes Chloe want to curl up and die. In a good way, of course, but  _ still.  _ It’s just a lot to handle, okay?

Between verses, Brooke falls quiet and tilts her head to one side. “Um, Chloe? Are you okay?”

“Never been better,” Chloe says, voice choked. “Absolutely fine over here.”

 

Okay, so that part about only having a little bit of vodka was a lie. Like, a  _ total  _ lie. It's funny- Brooke said she didn't want to get drunk while she was sad, but she's not very sad anymore. In fact, she's  _ really  _ happy. 

“Someone's having fun,” Chloe says, watching with an air of amusement as Brooke makes up her own dance moves to some Rihanna song that she doesn't remember the name of. She's slurring her words already; Brooke knows it's only a matter of time until she starts dancing with her, too.

“I like to dance!” she says, shaking her hips with an exorbitant amount of flair. “It helps me cope.”

“Yeah, alright. Will you at least play truth or drink with me?” Chloe asks, crossing her legs as she takes a seat on the couch. “You don't have to stop dancing, don't worry.”

Brooke shrugs mid-shimmy and says, “Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, I'll start,” Chloe says. “What's one thing you've always wanted to say to one of your friends?”

“‘I love you’,” Brooke answers without hesitation. She needs to make Chloe feel loved, duh; her parents certainly don’t do it for her.

Chloe looks away, the slightest bit of a blush rising to her face. “Yeah, um. Your turn.”

The song ends, and Brooke takes a break between that one and the next to catch her breath. “Okay,” she says. “Um… how about…” She snaps her fingers and grins as an idea comes to her. “Who are you crushing on?”

“Brooke, I would tell you if I had a crush,” Chloe says, which is patently untrue ever since they had a crush on the same guy in the eighth grade and were pissed off at each other for a week about it. Better to play things safe. 

Brooke rolls her eyes. “Come on, Chlo, spit it out. Unless you wanna take a drink instead.”

Chloe groans and pours herself a shot of vodka- strawberry flavored, from her own stash- before throwing it back, hair falling into her face. “Are you happy?” she asks, rolling her eyes right back at Brooke.

With a nod, Brooke snickers. Chloe is  _ really  _ cute when she's drunk. Well, she's cute all the time, but…

Uh oh.

These are the same things she thought about Brock before they got together. The reminder that he exists doesn't do wonders for her mood, but the most important thing here is that… whoa, those are some Pretty Gay Thoughts. She knows she's bi, but… wow.

“Uh, Brooke? You good over there?”

Brooke blinks, coming back to the present, and nods. “Yeah, I'm fine. Hit me with a question.”

“Alright. If you could kiss anyone at Middle Borough, who would it be?” Chloe pauses for a moment. “And  _ don't  _ say-”

Brooke shakes her head almost violently. “Ew, no, I'm totally over him,” she lies. But that wasn't going to be her answer anyway- not with what she's just discovered. “Um… can I say something weird?”

Oh, no. She didn't mean to say that.

Chloe's eyes widen momentarily before she blinks and shakes her head. “Sure, go for it,” she says, but her tone is weak- not weak as in weak-willed, but as in weak in the knees.

Well, there's no going back now. Brooke crosses the room to sit next to Chloe on the couch, not bothering to pour a shot. She clears her throat once, twice, again; then, with eyes squeezed shut, she says, “It's you.”

When she opens her eyes a few moments later, Chloe is staring at her, wide-eyed, mouth agape. “You… um…”

“Don't- don't judge me, okay?” Brooke pleads, withdrawing in on herself. “Just, um…”

And then Chloe leans in.

A beat.

She kisses her.

 

Kissing Brooke is like kissing a piece of heaven. This may just be because she's drunk, but holy  _ shit,  _ she's actually kissing her best friend, her Brooke… Whoa. Mustering all her confidence- which should be more, given that she's drunk and also Chloe Valentine, but Brooke is something out of the ordinary- she raises a hand to cup the back of Brooke's head, pulling her closer. 

Holy  _ shit. _

Brooke pulls away after a minute, eyes like moons in the sky of her face, and says, “Wow, alright.”

“Well, that's what you wanted, isn't it?” Chloe asks. Good Lord, what if she was just kidding? What if she was baiting her into outing herself? No, Brooke wouldn't do that. But still…

“No, yeah, it was… that was exactly what I wanted, Chloe,” Brooke assures her, and leans in to give her another peck on the lips. Chloe yearns to deepen it, but Brooke is pulling back in another moment. “Um… I don't… know what to do about this.”

“We can just make out if you want,” Chloe says, a little too enthusiastic.

Brooke chuckles that heart-bursting laugh of hers and says, “Yeah, I think I'd like that.”

Not wasting any time, Chloe pulls her closer and presses their glossed lips together, cupping Brooke's cheeks with uncharacteristically gentle hands. She longs to whisper her sweet nothings, tell her whatever she wants to hear, but drunk and slurred isn't the way to do it. Brooke deserves better. 

When the kiss finally breaks what feels like an eternity and a half later, Brooke breathes out in a dreamy sigh and says, “I  _ really  _ like you, Chloe.”

Chloe smiles, a sun-like thing, and says, “I really like you, too, Brooke.”

 

That night, wrapped up in Chloe’s arms, Brooke finds peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I love you!


End file.
